The subject of this brief memoir was born Tunbridge Wells, November 25th 1865. He was the second child the Lord had seen fit to give us. The first had been removed by bronchitis some months previously. We felt that this dear child was send to fill the void caused by the removal of the first; and our earnest prayer was, that Christ should be glorified in him.
When he was about three months old, we invited a few Christians, that they might have fellowship with us in commending him to the Lord’s gracious care, and in asking that we might have grace given to us to train him for Christ. All present felt the Lord was with us. It was a season of much refreshment.
He was a tender plant. For some time after his birth symptoms of croup were frequently manifested, which increased in severity as he grew older, and did not cease until he was nearly eighteen months old. The attacks were frequently very severe and during some of them we thought him “absent from the body” but a deep sigh, and then again he would breathe, and once more our hearts rejoiced in receiving him, as it were, back again; and we then felt deeply the responsibility laid upon us to train him for Jesus. And sweet indeed was it to us to hear, among his first words, the name of Jesus lisped by him—that name which, as he grew older, became so sweet to him.
His mamma felt the necessity of showing him, as soon as he was old enough in any way to understand; that God was the giver of every good thing; and that whatever he needed he was to ask God for. In a short time he quite understood this, and often he might be found on tended knee asking Jesus to give him what he wanted.
From two or three years of age some displays of his self-will caused us much sorrow; but we sought help from God. When needful to punish him, we always prayed with him that God would keep him from naughtiness. He who is ever faithful heard our prayer; and from thence, until he “went before,” he caused us but little trouble. At these times his sorrow was very great. He would come and plead earnestly to be forgiven, and beg of us to kneel down with him and. ask God to forgive him. When placed in the nursery alone for some act of disobedience, frequently have our hearts been, rejoiced at hearing him pleading with Jesus to forgive him, and make him a good boy, that he might not grieve dear ma’ and pa’.
His little heart always seemed full of feeling for those he thought to be poor children. On one occasion, while walking with his mamma, he saw two little boys fighting. This pained him very much, and he wanted her to go and separate them, and tell them how grieved Jesus would be to see them doing so; and said, with tears in his eyes, “We must forgive them because, perhaps, they had no kind parents to tell them it was very naughty. We will go home and ask Jesus to forgive them.” If he saw poor ill-clad little ones, he used to say, “It seemed so sad, and it made a pain in his heart” (a favorite expression of his, meaning his heart ached), “and how kind it was of God to give him a kind mamma to care for him.” Thus he remembered her instructions, and gave God thanks for everything. If he had pence given him, he would frequently put them aside, saying, “It would do to give to some poor little child, or a crossing-sweeper;” and he often asked why Jesus let them be so poor. Another time he had a few little books given him suitable for children, and which spoke of the love of Jesus: these he took out with him in one of his walks, and gave them away, saying he “hoped the children he gave them to would love Jesus.”
His own great desire was to be able to read God’s word, and to grow as big as papa, saying he would then be able to fight for Jesus. He frequently used to repeat some, verses commencing with—
“I am a little soldier, and only five years old;
I mean to fight for Jesus, and wear a crown of
gold;
I know He makes me happy, He loves me all the
day;
I’ll be His little soldier—the Bible says I may.”
The last Bible story his mamma read to him was only a few days before he was taken, ill; it was of Mary going to the sepulcher to look for Jesus, and weeping because she could not find her Lord. His remark was, “Yes, mamma, no wonder she cried when she could not find Jesus; how sad she must have felt: I feel sad to think of it,” and his eyes were filled with, tears. Our precious boy was extremely sensitive, and anything sad would always cause him to weep, especially when told of Jesus being crucified, and having to bear His own cross. He would say, “Jesus suffered all that for us; how very much we ought to love Him.”
His thoughts often seemed to be fixed on heaven, and he would frequently ask what it was like, and if we really should have a white robe there and a harp? He would often break forth and ask similar questions, when those around him supposed his thoughts were occupied on entirely other subjects. On one occasion, on being put to bed, he asked for a candle to be left in the room until he had gone to sleep. His mamma said she thought he was old enough now to go to sleep without one; then, after a little time, he said, “There will be no night in heaven, mamma; so I shall not need a candle there.”
For his sister he had intense affection, and truly when she wept, he wept also. Once, when about to punish her by exclusion from our table for a day, the dear little fellow pleaded with us to be allowed to go into the nursery instead of her, as she was little. And in later days when some few times we allowed him to become the substitute, to enable us to put the work of Christ as our substitute more clearly before him, it was indeed surprising to see how joyfully he bore it, saying, “Now dear Nelly will be happy.” He would also frequently take her aside and pray for her that she might love Jesus and not grieve us.
During her illness he was continually thinking and planning as to what book or toy he would get for her, to afford her any pleasure or amusement; almost as soon as he was up in the morning, he would first ask how she was, and then say, “Dear mamma, what can I get for darling Nelly today?” As the springtime advanced, he watched with the greatest interest for the first flower in the garden, and proposed that when the first little flower opened its eye he should pluck it, and send it to his sweet pet, Nelly. He did not forget each day to look and watch very assiduously, and soon he was able to pick one solitary snowdrop, which he sent with a message that it was the very first in the garden, and it was to say that summer was coming, when he hoped she would be able to take some nice walks with him, and that he did not forget her in the least, but rather loved her and thought of her more every day.
He watched the buds and blossoms as they gradually unfolded, and would often remark, “It is God that sends the lovely rain and sun, which makes the pretty green leaves to grow, and the pretty flowers. What a kind God we have. How we ought to love Him.”
He was extremely, unselfish. Whatever present he had, he would always say, “This will do for darling Nelly.” She too loved him most affectionately, and since he has been gone, has seemed truly at a loss what to do without her companion brother. He and she often sang hymns together, and in singing “The realms of the blest,” he would say, “Mamma dear, I wonder what it will be to be there!” He always seemed to enter into the meaning of the words as he sang them, and most truly were our hearts rejoiced to see his great thoughtfulness. One of the last hymns he sang on earth was—
“Oh, what has Jesus done for me?
He died for me—my Saviour.”
And every word he seemed to say with such an understanding. This was in the evening by moonlight, and he said he so loved to look at the moon and the lovely sky; he felt he could sing so nicely then. He always admired the sky, especially at night, and often said, “What a lovely place heaven must be, because the sky is so lovely!” He seldom failed to notice anything lovely in nature, and would sometimes say, “I suppose, mamma, God knows it pleases us to send the lovely flowers, and the beautiful trees, and the birds to sing, and this is why He sends them.”
Once, when mamma was reading to him of a little boy and girl who were left orphans, and how they got on alone, she noticed he sat crying and thoughtful, and when she inquired why he was sad, his reply was, “Oh, mamma! I was thinking what a sad, thing it would be if I should be left like that; so I shall pray to Jesus that He will never take you and dear papa before me, but let me go first. I feel I should like to go to Jesus and my little brother.” He never forgot this simple tale, and often spoke of it with tears in his eyes. Oh, how little did we then think the Lord would gratify his childish wish! He would also say sometimes, “It would be nice, mamma, if Jesus would come and take us all up together.” And he would like to know how many of those that were in the grave would rise up to meet Jesus. He so wished that Jesus would put a mark on the graves of those who loved Him!
During the last twelvemonth of his little sojourn here, he seemed to speak and act so thoroughly beyond his years, as to cause many of our friends to say that he would never live.
His love of God’s Word was very great; he would willingly leave any play to hear of Jesus; and frequently, when the nurse told him some simple story, he would say, “No, do read to me out of the Bible.” His memory being good, he often surprised us by relating whole histories of Old Testament characters, and astonished us by his questions concerning them.
He loved all who loved Jesus, and all he came in contact with he asked the (often to them startling) question, “Do you love Jesus?” If the reply was “Yes,” he seemed to have immediate confidence; but if there was any hesitation, he would immediately tell them what a sad thing it would be for them to be left down here, when Jesus takes those who love Him away.
In time of trouble Jesus was his sure refuge, taking his every trouble there. A few months previously to his departure, during our absence from home, his sister fell down the stairs. Hearing her screams, he immediately fell on his knees, and asked Jesus that she might not be hurt; he then ran down to her, and, finding her not much hurt, exclaimed, “I knew Jesus would not let you be much hurt, because I asked him so.” Going one Lord’s day with a Christian to the Sunday school, and there being few scholars present, they together knelt down and asked the Lord to send more. His anxiety was great on the next Sunday to go and see if there were more, and, finding it was so, his simple acceptance of this fact as God’s answer to their prayer was most touching. On another occasion walking on the common with some little friends, the furze was observed to be on fire, and a large blaze very near them; seeing their terror, he then and there knelt down, and asked Jesus to, take care of them; he then got up, and said, “Now we need not fear; for I know Jesus will keep us from being hurt.”
He latterly became very anxious to learn to read; and being asked why he was so very desirous to be able to read, he replied, “Because then I could go and read about Jesus myself, and, should not have to trouble any one to do so for me.”
Soon after Christmas his sister was seized with scarlet fever, and the doctor ordered the removal of all the household from the infection; his papa only remaining to watch her with the nurse. Her illness was a very severe and trying one, and many times we feared that her time was short; but the Lord graciously restored her, after nine weeks of much suffering. It was during this time, when alone with his mamma, that the depth of his love for Christ was discovered. “I will be a little pa’ to you,” he said to his mamma, a day or two after being settled in their temporary residence. And truly he rejoiced when she rejoiced; weeping when she wept.
During the time when his papa was laid aside with diphtheria, it was most touching and sweet to hear his earnest pleading that he might be restored; and his joy was unbounded when one day he unexpectedly drove up to the door, the doctor having given him permission to remove to the other residence. The dear little fellow wept with joy, and, in his simplicity, failed not to thank Jesus for bringing back dear papa; and praying that he might be kept from kissing his mouth, it being considered wise to avoid this for fear of any contagion. Shortly after his sister was allowed out for a walk; and, after some days, it being considered perfectly safe, he was allowed to meet her, and the affection he manifested towards her was very great; taking her arm, and placing it within his own, he said, “How kind and good Jesus was to hear his prayer for her, and that he never forgot her, but always told Jesus he wanted to see her.”
About this time another little sister was born; and when he heard it, he remarked, “How kind God was to make dear Nelly well, and to give him another sister.” He was so delighted to be able to kiss “the dear little soft thing,” as he called her.
The nurse attending on his mamma was a Christian, and the child instinctively loved her, and used to beg of her, now mamma was laid by, to tell him something about Jesus. His favorite topic was the crucifixion and, the sufferings of Christ; and his face would be streaming down with tears, whilst his eye glistened, and his little brow darkened, as they read of the scourging, the smiting, and the cruel mockings, of “the Man of sorrows.”
About a fortnight after this, the doctor having some time previously given his permission, his sister came to the house to stay with him; and most anxiously he waited at the window for some hours, watching for her arrival till he seemed weary with waiting. When she arrived he seemed quite poorly, and said he should be so glad when tomorrow came, that he might be well, and able to enjoy “a good love,” as he termed it, with Nelly.
During the night he was very restless, and more than once said to his papa, who was sleeping with him, “I am so sorry, dear papa, to wake you; but I cannot sleep.” In the morning he was very sick, but was dressed; and his mamma wishing to see all the little ones together, he was taken with his sister and little brother into her room. It was the only time the four children were together, and was the last time his mamma saw him. He went downstairs, and tried to play with his sister, but was again very sick, and was laid down on the sofa to rest. Fearing what was coming on, a medical man was called in, and our anxieties were fully confirmed; scarlet fever had seized him. A carriage was at once procured, and he was taken to the other house. During the journey, he said, “I hope, dear papa, Jesus won’t allow me to remain ill so long as dear Nelly.” He got into his crib almost immediately after his arrival; and kneeling up, he prayed most earnestly that he might not suffer so much as his dear sister; and that he might not grieve his papa or nurse. It was on a Thursday he was first taken, and the disease seemed running its course favorably; but now was the time that Christ was to be glorified in him. His papa was about to read to him one afternoon, from a little book for children. Observing the book, he said, “Not that, papa; only from the Bible.” Being asked what part he would like to be read, he replied, “About Jesus crucified.” Asking him who Jesus was crucified for? he replied, with such an earnestness of tone that will never be forgotten by those who heard it, “For ME, papa,—for ME, papa.” Nothing but what spoke of Jesus would do for him; and as he lay there, he prayed so sweetly for all dear to him, especially that his brother and little baby sister might be kept from being ill, as they were so, little, and could not bear it so well as he.
His nurse was a Christian, but one who was called in to assist was not, and it pained him much that she could not speak to him of the love of Jesus.
On the following Monday afternoon, his throat became suddenly much worse, and unfavorable symptoms set in. His papa remained with him during the night, and both during the delirium and the intervals of consciousness he was continually speaking of or praying to Jesus. As morning dawned he recovered his consciousness, and after willing to hear of heaven and the many mansions there, he turned his little wearied head, and said to his nurse, “Take me out of my crib, Jane, and take me to Jesus.” Shortly previous to this, his papa told him he was going to write to his mamma. He faintly smiled, and said, “Send my very best love and kisses; but don’t say how ill I am; it will make her so very unhappy.”
“Take me to Jesus” were nearly his last words. The worst symptoms set in; another medical man was called in; everything that skill could suggest was done; but “the Lord had need of him.” He was scarcely conscious after this, and his sufferings were evidently great, though a merciful Father prevented his fully realizing their intensity. During the brief moments of consciousness, when his papa spoke to him of the One he so dearly loved, his face would brighten, though unable to speak. A few hours before his departure, we could hear him murmur that name ever so sweet to him. His papa leaned his face down, and asked him to kiss him; he did so; it was the last lucid interval he had. The paroxysms became more intense, and on Tuesday morning, at ten minutes to one, his happy spirit took its flight to be “forever with the Lord.” Both nurses were present at the tithe, and the exclamation of the unconverted one was, “That dear lamb is gone straight to glory!” The rest present could but bow their knees and pray that that Name may ever prove as sweet to them, and give God glory for such a triumph of His grace.
It was necessary, from the nature of the disease, that the little clay tenement should be speedily committed to the grave, till “Jesus comes;” and on Friday morning we committed his little body to the earth, “waiting the adoption, to wit, the redemption of the body,” on the eighth day after his being first taken ill.
On his memorial cards these words were inscribed—
In fond Remembrance of
HAROLD WILBERFORCE ~~~~~~
WHOM THE LORD IN HIS LOVE TOOK TO HIMSELF,
March 27th, 1871,
Aged Five Years and Four Months.
“He saw the desert would not suit
A tender plant like this,
And gave it in His Paradise
A newborn, endless bliss.
‘A little while’ the tear may flow,
Sorrow is not despair;
He that hath gently laid us low
Will give us strength to bear.”
And now, my dear children, who may read this little memoir, I will ask you the question dear little Harold would have asked you, had he known you. “If Jesus were to come tonight to take those who love Him up there, to be with Him always, would you go up with Jesus? or would you be left down on this earth?” It is a solemn question. Do you love Jesus? If not, if He were to come, you would not return with Him, but be left behind. And how sad that would be! Oh think of this, dear little ones, and early give your hearth to Jesus! Remember what He has done for you. How He left His throne in glory! how He came into this wicked world! how cruelly He was treated, yet how good He was, curing the sick, raising the dead, giving sight to the blind! And then, after all this, in order that you might not be punished, He bore the wrath of God due to you, and suffered death on Calvary’s cross. Do you, dear child, believe He died for you? If so, happy are you; and let your whole life be spent in praising Him. If not, remember how wicked you are and have been, and that the wicked can never be admitted into heaven. But remember, also, that your sin might be forgiven—Jesus died; He “died for us in love.” Think how much He must have loved sinners to die for them! And will you not love Him, and give Him your heart? If so, you will be happy while you live here, and rejoice with Him throughout eternity.
“Around the throne of God in heaven,
Thousands of children stand;
Children whose sins are all forgiven,
A holy, happy band,
Singing, Glory, glory, glory!”
That you may join dear Harold in singing with that happy band is my earnest prayer.
THE STARS.
STARS are sparkling gems of light,
Spotless in their luster,
Circling on the brow of night
In a countless cluster.
God alone their names can know,
And can tell their number,
As they shine on all below,
While we calmly slumber.
Each is but a shining spark,
But, together beaming,
Night is never wholly dark
While their light is gleaming.
All have stations in the sky,
Glory great, or greater,
In the places, low or high,
Fix’d by their Creator.
Sons of God, like stars, should shine
In this world benighted;
As they dwell in Light Divine,
So their lamps are lighted.
Little lights that brightly burn,
Meekly Christ confessing,
Others may from darkness turn
Unto light and blessing.